Twenty #2
The satisfaction I had felt at shutting Adrian down was short-lived as I was once again the girl on the terrace, alone and confused.
What he had said to me in the library had rattled me to the core.
Hope had sparked in my chest after his confession, and I didn’t know if I should close my fist around it and snuff it out or if I should put my hands protectively around it and nurture the delicate flame to burn brighter.
Lost in the hazy state of confusion, I went through the motions of taking a shower and getting ready for bed.
I couldn’t rest, though, full of discontent.
Pacing the bedroom, I agonized over our visit to the border in the morning.
What would we find when we arrived at the Enwyld Forest?
Would the swaths of paint I always pictured be nearly leached of all color, indicating that the barrier was on the brink of collapse?
A shuddering exhale left me at the thought.
I hoped that I was strong enough to infuse the canvas of the wards with new colors, making them last another day.
If I could help would remain uncertain until the morning.
Losing my sleep over it tonight would serve no purpose. Tonight, it was out of my control.
But there is something within my control.
I stared at the closed bedroom door. I could seek Adrian out and finish our conversation from earlier.
With so much uncertainty in my life, I could bring clarity to that one part of it.
I could find out why he had pushed me away.
Or I could do nothing about it. I could let his words from earlier fade into oblivion, with hope that, over time, the imprint he had left on my heart would fade into oblivion as well.
No. I owed it to myself to know the truth.
My mind made up, I strode to the door and swung it open. My breath caught when I found Adrian on the other side, his hand raised as if to knock.
“Emelin.” He lowered his hand.
My gaze glided over his features. His hair was disheveled as if he had run his hand through it too many times. Dark circles I had failed to notice earlier smudged the skin under his eyes. His face was drawn, as if he had barely slept over the past two weeks.
Silence ensued as we stared at each other across the threshold.
I felt a pang in my chest, as if an invisible thread stretched taut between us.
The tether tugged on my heart, trying to bring us closer together.
But I couldn’t give in to the pull as the memory of the pain he had caused held me back.
Too many unspoken things hung in the air between us.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian rasped. “I know I hurt you that night at the ball. I pushed you away.” A rough exhale left him as he briefly closed his eyes and shook his head. “The truth is, I should be pushing you away right now, but I can’t do it. Not when all I truly want to do is pull you closer.”
My brows knitted in confusion at his words a moment before understanding dawned on me. He was hesitant to trust me with his heart, and I couldn’t blame him, given his past.
“Adrian,” I whispered.
“I should fight this, but I can’t.” He stepped into my room, and I let go of the door and took a step back to let him in. “I don’t want to fight it. I want to give in to it. To this pull between us. I know you feel it, too. That night at the ball…that kiss…”
“Was everything I wanted and more.” The words escaped before I could stop them.
His eyes darkened as he inclined his head in agreement.
“You should tell me to leave your room because if I stay…” His voice was low and thick as he stared at me from beneath his long, dark lashes.
We were on a precipice again, and this time, there was no doubt in my mind that he would take the leap. It didn’t matter then why he had pushed me away before. That moment was in the past. I wanted to focus on the future. On our future together.
“Stay,” I breathed as a heady mix of nervousness and anticipation invaded my blood.
Adrian stood unmoving for a few seconds as if waiting for me to change my mind.
When I didn’t, he turned around and closed the door behind him with a soft click.
My throat dried at the sound as I suddenly remembered how inexperienced I was.
The burst of panic swiftly subsided when he faced me again, and what I saw in his gaze erased any doubt and insecurity.
The desire burning in his eyes was all-consuming.
“If we do this, you’re mine,” he said, coming closer. There was hope and yearning in his voice, along with an undertone of fear.
“As long as you’re mine,” I whispered.
“For as long as you want me.”
“I will always want you.”
Something flickered across his features, but it was gone far too quickly for me to place what it was.
Slowly, he lifted his hand to my face and traced the curve of my cheek with his fingertips.
A faint exhale left him, and his eyes widened in awe as if he couldn’t believe he was getting to touch me again.
Breathing became difficult as he lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips over mine.
“I’ve dreamt about your lips ever since our first kiss,” he whispered.
“I’ve dreamt about you, too.”
“Will you allow me to make our dreams a reality?” he begged, his fingers threading through my hair.
My hands fisted in his shirt. “Yes.”
He made a sound low in his throat as he captured my mouth, parting my lips with one fierce stroke of his tongue.
The kiss instantly became deep and overwhelming, as if he was trying to pour his longing for me into it, his want, and his need, and I greedily opened up for him because I wanted and needed him, too.